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Thursday, October 4, 2012

The Chronicles of Creams

The creams must be supple, they must be luxurious, they must be ample; yet should the creams be creams?  Let me explain, my dear friends, for I've always tried to explain things as well as I can.

The other night while on an adventure I stopped into Peels for something sweet.  I was actually on my way to eat dinner, but as mealtime was almost an hour away, I knew my grumbling stomach would not hold.  I walked into Peels, which is slightly embarrassing given how precious and hipsterish it is, but oh well.  I was dismayed to find that they had emptied out their dessert case.

"My good man!" I declared.  "What has happened?"

The nice gentleman explained that they stop pastry service at 6pm, and it was then 6:15pm.

"What were you looking for? Just something sweet?" he said.

"Indeed!" I said.  "Perhaps a slice of banana cream pie."

The nice gentleman excused himself for a few moments, and shortly thereafter returned with a smile and a thumbs up.  Yes, even I get lucky sometimes.

And how was this banana cream pie? It was enjoyable in a sense, but in another sense it was too -- I never thought I would say this -- creamy.  Indeed, it didn't really seem like a banana cream pie, but rather a banana cream cream.  Now, I enjoy banana puddings, and don't get me wrong, this concoction that Peels whipped up was pleasant, but it was too light, too creamy, without enough texture, without enough substantiality.

Don't feel sorry for me, and I would not have a problem eating this treat again.  But it just seemed to lack something.  It was more like a foam, in a way. Or, have you heard of cream of chicken soup? Or cream of asparagus soup?  This was like cream of cream soup.  I guess.

Peels
Bowery, Lower East Side/NoHo